Prank

"Perfect," I mutter to myself as I close the door to my boss's office. I always loved pranking people especially bosses, and this one was the best one yet. I walk back to my cubicle glowing and past my best friend at work, Bill, and give him the 'I just set a prank' look and he just smiles right back in the same radiant fashion as he copies papers. I sit down in my cubicle's chair and giddily spin it once and then get back to work. I start typing up the report that is due at the end of the work day when out of my peripheral vision I see my boss headed toward his office and my smile on my face grew bigger. I set back to work waiting for the prank to take place. Then the blaring sound of the air horn cut through the office workplace and solid thump followed. I loved that rig and it gave me great satisfaction to see that it worked. I had duct taped an air horn to the back of my boss's door so that when it was opened it would be pressed down and it worked! Now to get back to work because I did have work to do, but it was worth the lunch break. I settled down and got back to work. Today, pushing aside the prank, was pretty uneventful, I thought in my head as I printed out my report on the week. While the slow printer was printing I saw my friend come over to me on his way out and said to me while giving me a high five,
"That was a great prank man, but I think that the boss is pretty mad."
"Ok, thanks for the heads up man, have a good weekend," I respond.
"Thanks, I will," he says as he leaves. I then turn around and see the report, all twenty pages, has printed. I then turn towards the boss's office, dreading what will come next, dreading what will happen when I step inside the doors of the office. I approach the door and then knock not knowing what would come next.
"Come in," I hear from the other side of the door. I push the latch down and then push it gently in careful not to trip the trap. Then I hand the report to my boss and he looks over it for a few minutes and then says,
"You did a good job on this." A wave of relief washes over me and then I hear,
"But do not be relieved yet because I never really liked you and today your action is enough for a reasonable reason to dismiss you."
"It will not happen again, I promise," I say knowing that I am pleading for my job.
"You have said that before Jason and I don't trust you, so to prove I can trust you I ask for your report to be in by Wednesday," my boss states in a matter of fact way.
"I can't bec-," my boss interrupts me,
"I don't want to hear that, you're fired!" I thought to myself with those words, what will I tell my wife?

George

George, a strong athletic kid, ran around the track. His feet soared with little effort. This year he would be champion, or so he believes I thought to myself as I watched George finish.  His run and stated to walk it off. I waited in the wings so not to show George what I can really do and what real running is. My best mile time last year was 10:41 his was 6:32. No one thought that I could make that gap up except for me. With track starting next month and my average time was 5:12, but George's best time was 4:50. This was a lot to make up in a month I thought, but I think that it was just a lucky spike because his average was 5:06, which was do able in one month. The only reason I had made such a difference in time is because I had goals, and one of the major goals that drove me was to beat George in a race. I hated George. I hate him because he is always stuck up and always thinking he is the best, and well that was true, but it will not be for much longer. This is my year. This is my time. I was going to surprise everyone on the first day of practice. They had seen me since last track season, and sure they had seen my legs getting longer and sure they had seen my body get less fatty and more muscular but none of them thought my time could jump like that. The coaches that tried to predict our times at the beginning of the season thought that my time would be 9:21, they underestimated me. They thought that I would only shave only 1:20 off my time, boy are they off! On the other hand they predicted George's time at 4:30, so unless George works till he dies like I have then the coaches will be underwhelmed. I look around the track for George and I see him walking away from the black, asphalt track. I prime my timer to time me as I rush down the hill to rush around the track. I come to a stop at the entrance of the track and look around to make sure that no one sees me. I walking to the fence ring that surrounds the track after knowing that no one watches me. I press the time on the timer and drop it taking off to be free, to feel the air rush through my hair. Lap one passes in a flash and my legs feel like they are flying and the burn has not come yet, very good. Lap two doesn't slow one bit if anything I just get faster, no burn yet either. Lap three passes the same but the burn starts to rise up my legs. I can see the end of lap four, the burn is powerful but I push through because this too will pass. I cross the line, running through it and then stop. I turn around and pick up my stop watch and take three seconds off the time and that gets me 5:04. Victory so far, but we both still have a month.

Therapy

At group problem therapy-

"I feel used. Actually, I feel more than used, I feel, I feel overused. I feel like people use me for everything they do and say. Me this me that. I feel attached to everything that people do," The pound symbol announced.
"It's ok, I am a trained to help you with your problem. Also, all of these people here today are here to sympathize with you and your experience," the leader of group therapy told pound symbol.
"And that's not the worst of it they gave my some new name. Some random, made up, slang name. My name is pound, not hashtag! My name is not hashtag! Why would people call me some made up name? How would you like it if I just changed your name? You wouldn't would you? That's what I thought."
"Alright, alright calm down. I am sure that another person in the circle will be able to sympathize with hash- I mean pound symbol," The therapist said.
"Great, just great, here I am trying to get sympathy and understanding and all I get is mocked and misunderstood. People used to use me as a button to make a decision with but now I am just a prequel to increasingly stupid phrases like Y.O.L.O and swag. I can do nothing to stop the stupidity. If you are to call be a 'hashtag' at least attach me to something appropriately, and by this I mean do not attach me to every word like the, and, so, or any other filler word. Please, and I beg, just call and use me as the pound sign," The pound sign said.
"I am sorry that I messed your name up," The therapist tried to apologize.
"It is fine. I guess that today's teens just get me fired up. I mean can't they just use their incorrectness wisely and not invent stupid new words. Also, can't they just put me were the incorrectness is needed? I hate today's teens. They are always making up stupid trends and slang. I know that other people have to go, but I am just very passionate about this subject, if you couldn't tell. I am sorry for going off but I have never had anyone sympathize with me," pound sign said.
"Ok, well is there anyone who sympathizes with pound sign over here?" The therapist asked.
"No, ok, well I guess I will be going then. This is what happens every time," pound sign said as he went out on his sad little way.

Cafe

"I feel like some coffee," I thought under my breath, "It is a good thing that I work near a coffee shop." I start to walk toward the coffee shop, which is about two blocks to the south of my office building.  I start to think about what I want to get. I arrived at the coffee shop and notice that the line is unusually short. I am walking to the front to order and then the door ringer goes off as the regulars pour in to get there three o'clock coffee. I approach the counter with my order,
"Welcome to Jim's Coffee Shop! Making your delicious cup of joe since 1914! Can I take your order?" The very cheery and energetic cashier said. That is why I always came to this coffee shop, not because of the proximity, nor because off the coffee, though it was good, but because of the customer service.
"I will have one coffee, a little cream and a little honey. Thank you," I reply.
"Alright tell me if this is right, one coffee, a little cream and a little honey?" The cashier makes sure.
"Yes, that is right," I assure her.
"Ok, we will get it out soon! Your number is 143! Thank you for choosing us!" The cashier said, always cheery.
"Ok, thank you," I said as I dropped some change into the tip jar. I walked away to an empty seat to admire the space in which I would be drinking my coffee. I had sat down at one of those tables that have two chairs at them but if the two people have more that a drink then it is too small. My table was slightly to the left of the cahier and faced toward the door. I had be here many times before and could be considered a regular, but every time I came it something was different as if they wanted me to look around every time. One thing, though, was always the same, the coffee brown color of the walls upon which everything hung. The color of the walls was just part of the atmosphere and the also seemed to add to the taste of the coffee. One of the cooler things about the coffee shop was that the wall to the left of me was covered in picture of all of the celebrities that had bought something at the shop. It was just cool to think that I could have been in here to see these people, and that I could have met one of them if I had been here at the right time. I continued to scanned my eyes to the to the right and I come to the front wall which is pretty much just a wall of glass except for the fact that the door fell in the middle of it. On the left side of the door there hung a sign that read OPEN in flashing red and blue colors. Then as I continued to scan to the right I say a temporary paper sign that read 'Now hiring.' I predict the sign will not be there long based on the economy. As my eyes continue to drift to the right they pass over the door which have has a new sign hanging over it that reads 'Thank you for visiting Jim's Coffee Shop!' On the other side of the window the name of the coffee shop was written in elaborate, white, almost see through lettering that looked like they had been there since 1914 when the shop first opened. I continued to look across the small coffee shop and tried to look at the wall that was to the right of me through the crowd of people waiting in line to order. The wall was covered in yet another cool collage of photos. These photos were less cliché for a business to have, though not by much. The series of pictures depicts the employees of the coffee shop every New Year to commemorate another year of business. The last of the walls is taken up by the cashier and coffee makers. As I finish up looking around I hear,
"143." I get up and start to walk over to the coffee pick-up station on my way I dodge the wet floor sign and the coffee spill that it denotes and then I reach the coffee pick-up station and look for my coffee. I find it at the far left of the counter, I pick it up and turn around. I look towards my seat and see that someone is sitting in it and their back is facing me. I use to get mad at people who did this and then two things happened one, I did it to someone on accident and I realized how often this happens. I walked over to the seat in which I was sitting in completely calm, as I rounded the corner of the table my face filled with joy and I could feel the happiness lighting me up as I saw who it was. I knew when I saw the face that it was no accident that he was sitting at the table. It was my friend of a little over fifteen years and he must have seen me looking around. I sat down and said,
"Hey, Frank, what are you doing here?"
"Well I had a little time off and I thought that you would be here," Frank replied.
"That was a good guess and I feel really bad right now because I have been holding a secret back from you for a couple of years now," I said guiltily.
"I realized that something was up every time we talked because I can see it on your face, so go ahead, speak," Frank said. I forget that he is a shrink sometimes.
"Ok, here is my secret-

Time Period

After saving my neighbor who hated me and my guts from dying from a heart attack I worked on the watch whenever the other me wasn't working on his design. Though I got little time to work, I perfected it so that I could travel back to World War one. To prevent a time catastrophe I waited until the other me time traveled and wondered why I didn't see him the time that I traveled. That didn't matter now. I pressed the button I installed on the back and instantly I was covered in a veil of white light. When the light subsided I took a look around and saw that I was indeed in 1914, but I was not in the right place. I decided to walk to the coffee shop down the street from my house praying that it was open in 1914. As I started to walk toward the coffee shop I started to think how rice I could get by introducing technologies that I knew would come anyway. I would do that later, right now I had to at least try to do a decent act with my traveling ability. I arrived at where the coffee shop should have been, but instead there was a sandwich and drug store. I guess I didn't get coffee, but at least there were newspaper, which is all I really needed. I picked up the paper and put it on the counter.
"That will be five cents," The cashier said. I pulled out my wallet and looked at the cash, knowing good and well that my cards wouldn't work. I had two fifties and one twenty. I pulled out the twenty and handed it to cashier. I put my wallet away, looked up and saw the surprise on the cashier's face. He put the twenty away and gave me a ten, a five, four ones, and 95 cents. I then asked,
"Where is your manager?"
"I am him," the cashier responded.
"Ok, here is ten dollars, use it after 1929. Also turn this place into a coffee shop, it will do much better," I told him.
"Ok, thank you, what is your name?" The manager inquired.
"The name is Jim," I said.
"Have a good day sir," the manager said as I strolled out of his store. I looked for a bench to sit on as I continued to stroll down the walkway. I noticed that I was getting strange looks, and then I realized why, I was wearing clothes from what I considered modern. Those clothes were jeans and a vibrant graphic t-shirt with a cat in a taco on it. Both of which looked a lot out of place compared to the suits that most of the other men were wearing. I came to a stop at a bench in a park, not caring what people thought of the weirdly clad man that was sitting there. I then looked at the newspaper and the date read June 27, 1914. I had one day to save Archduke Ferdinand and I was going to try, whether or not people thought that I could.

Pants.

Beep. Beep. Beep. Click. I jump up out of my bed feeling refreshed. The day feels young, you know what they say, a new day, a new- wait a second! Where are my favorite pants? Crash, the sound came from another room. As I walked toward the sound my cat, Muffin, rushed past. As I enter a room I see a lamp, broken and on the floor. I continued on my quest carefully. As I turn the corner to go to the next room I see her standing in front of me, confused and scared. She just stands there slowly getting angrier and angrier, as if she thinks the pants are hers. I raise my hand in anger as if I was about to yell. The robber mimes my moves down to the point of the expression on my face. I start to walk toward the woman, the woman does the same, as I move closer I realize that there is glass in between the robber and me. The wall below the window has obscured my view of the pants. I stare into the eyes of the robber for a while.  I start to let my mind wander in the eyes of the robber and I start think why hasn't the robber run yet? I decide to scare her off by yelling at her. I raise my arm again; I ignore her pantomime of me and continue with my scaring process. I yell,

"Give me back my pants!" I see her copying my mouth movements, mocking me, but she still didn't run. This was the most daring and calm-headed robber ever and all it did to me was make me ever more annoyed. All the robber looked now was angry and annoyed, still probably copying my emotions. I just couldn't figure her out; she just stood there, copying me, not speaking. She must be a professional mime. This struck my last never with this robber who was full of herself. I bend down and grabbed a thick, wooden dowel and ran toward the window. Holding like I would a spear it hit the window, all of my weight behind it. The window cracked, but I was confused. The one robber was gone, but now there were many of her, each one confined to their crack of the window. Each one also mimed me and had my same expression of confusion. I then realized what I was seeing, what the drinks from last night had kept hidden for to long, I was looking into a mirror. I looked down to confirm this presumption and saw that I was indeed wearing my favorite pants. I walked back to my room and looked at my clock. The clock read six a.m. I crawled into my bed; because after recent events and definitely needed sleep more than work and it was Saturday wasn't it? It didn't matter as I slowly drifted off to sleep trying to avoid a hangover from all of the drinks I had last night.

The Fight

"We have to get out now!" I yelled at my team mate, while I looked at my dead comrade.
"Why?" my last team mate, Jim, asked in stupid response.
"Really, now Jim? We are about to die, well Brad already did, and your asking WHY! Do you not remember what happens because Brad hit that button? He called an airstrike! He was a TRATOR! We will die of an airstrike if we just stand here, if the sniper doesn't get us first! You are the last one I got, I am not losing you too. Even if you ask stupid questions that make me hate you," I yelled at my last team mate Jim.
"Ok, Debra! Gosh," Jim replied. We started to run toward the door, I turn just enough to look at the body. At the slight glimpse that I just risked my life for, I started to cry, he was my brother. I hear the planes take their first pass. I then push Jim into a room, hoping that our lives would live long enough to develop a plan. Turning to Jim I say,
"Listen to me we don't have long, is the hot air balloon ready?"
"Yes," He responds.
"Ok, good, our only chance is to run to it," I say.
"But, but that is dangerous," he says, obviously scared.
"I know, but it is our only chance," I say trying to comfort him. I hear the planes approaching again, a bullet whips past my shoulder.
"We have to go, NOW!" I yell. We start running toward the door again. The door is so near yet so far. I fell more bullets zip past us again. I start to take the lead on Jim, the adrenaline pumping through my veins pushing me on. I finally reach the door, grasping the cold metal handle I pull. The heavy wooden door swings open. I start to run from the house, disregarding were Jim was. I hear an explosion behind me. I am lifted off of my feet, the blast propelling upward, but also closer to the balloon. I guess I lost both of them now, I thought to myself, one to a sniper and one to a missile. I stood up, remembering all those who were lost in the fighting.

Debra brushed the sand from her shirt, took a last, sad look at the now burning house, and stepped into the hot air balloon.

One Week

The day,

                         Bright.

The sky,

                                 Cloud free.

Then the news came,

A devastating blow to my happiness

It came with a soul shattering sound
And a crash to the ground
The news hit hard on the heart
I called my wife saying
One week
Seven days
168 hours
10080 minutes
604800 seconds
To live
To breath
To know
To be
To know that the human experience was ending
Saddened the core of me
There was no comfort of what I found comforting before
Death shows you things no mortal knows
My possessions-
Worthless to me
My life work-
Not worth it to me
The way I live depressed me
To the point of death seeming small
I saw no worth in money
I saw no worth in a job
I only saw worth in friends and family
The on quality of life I was on the search for was
A decent relationship
I knew the stories
The stories about humans
Knowing when their death was to come
And how they all searched for something
And I never thought that life's cliché
Would happen to me
This is the fault of mortals
To live with out living
No one will remember them
Not for the pants they wear
Not for their popularity
For this is what morals worry about
This shall not be remembered by the immortal whole
The human race
The insights that Death has given me
Will be lost in so few days
The wisdom that I have
Is so hard imparted on mortals
Why do mortals want
What crumbles
Money when money only buys a nice coffin
Death is never prevented
Only delayed
To persevere the illusion
Money is a demon
Possessing those who touch it
Destroying those who abuse it
The exorcism-
Imminent death
Most mortals ignore this house call
This house call that Death makes
Most of those who notice
Try to bribe Death
To which Death laughs
And lets live on
For a while
For he has the same insights as me
For he was the one to give them to be
Everything must end
Life is like a ball throw into the air
And death is like the ground
What goes up
Must come down
This is the law of life
There is no escaping it
Because a law is a law
No matter how universal
So it pains me to see mortals
 Be shallow
Though the pockets are deep
Mortals walk by the poor
The dying, cold, sick poor
They walk by
Not giving any life saving money
Because they value the money over a life
I believe that they are afraid
Of the singular thought of
What if that were me?
This raises more questions with me
Mainly why don't we listen to the rules
The rules that we learned from kindergarten
The one that says to
Treat others
As
You would like to be treated
We all know how to do this
But we don't act it out
We teach it to the next mortal generation
But they learn not from words
But from actions
So why, mortals, do we do this?
Why do we choose not to live?
Is it so that we do not die?
We are scared by the inevitable
We like to control
We are always power hungry
So when Death comes knocking
We become powerless
To do anything but reflect
And see the insights
That we previously missed
So this is how we live the death
We want to live
And we live it-
Clueless